Arrived
by jhoom
Summary: Shepard goes alone on a mission, leaving a worried Garrus behind her. Upon her return, Garrus can't help feel hurt and angry at her. Spoilers for Arrival DLC. Mass Effect Kink Meme fill, thus M for lemon in the last chapter.
1. No Goodbyes

**Arrived**

Shepard listened to the gentle hum of the Normandy as it traveled to the coordinates relayed to her by Admiral Hackett. She listened to the bubbles of her fish tank. She listened to her breathing, surprisingly steady.

She was sitting on the edge of her bed, hunched over, resting her arms on her knees and holding her helmet. Most of her armor was already on. She was just waiting for Joker to send word that they'd arrived at Aratoht. Not too much longer now. How long had she been sitting here, deciding?

She respected Hackett. He'd always had her back. Had even recommended her to be a Spectre. He'd asked her to help Dr. Kenson. She would. She'd go into Batarian space, sneak into a prison, rescue the doctor, and look into her evidence about an impending Reaper invasion.

He'd asked her to do it alone. She would.

Shepard had wanted to think. Decide what to do about the mission, about her crew. About Garrus.

The comm. flashed. "Shepard."

"Joker."

"We're here."

She chewed on the inside of her lip, weighing her options. She'd waited until the last minute to make this decision.

Lots of people called her a hero. Heroes were brave, right? Faced any challenge, no matter how dangerous or painful, to benefit others. Dealing with problems head-on. Racing around the galaxy. Saving people. Killing bad guys. That'd been her life since she joined the Alliance. She didn't feel brave doing it, but she'd never felt like a coward. Until now.

Joker knew the location. EDI had access to the chat logs with Hackett. Miranda had been briefed on the situation. Enough of the crew knew. Decision made.

"I'm on my way to the hangar. Shepard out."

She got up and headed out of her room. The elevator was empty and she was thankful, though she hadn't really been expecting anyone. No one who would try to talk her out of going in solo would know yet. The doors closed behind her and she tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. The guilt rising like bile in her throat.

_He'd just worry the whole time. I'll be in and out in a couple hours. I'll be back before he finds out. How can he get mad when he sees it all went fine?_

As she entered the shuttle and watched the hatch close behind her, she breathed a little easier. Too late to change her mind, but the relief she felt was because she hadn't run into anyone on her way there.

Jane Shepard had never felt like a coward. Until now.

* * *

><p>Garrus was in the main battery, assessing the damage from the Collectors and coordinating repairs. Ever since they'd survived the hell of a Human-Reaper, they'd been traveling through various systems, trying to rally support against the Reaper threat. Everyone had been pulling double-shifts, just trying to get things back to normal. Or at least what could pass for normal on the Normandy.<p>

His omni-tool beeped slightly and he stopped his work to look at it. 1700. Dinner time.

He finished up the last of his calibrations, then shut down his terminal. Usually he'd work well past the standard dinner time, not often feeling the need to socialize. But lately he and Shepard had been meeting up for meals. It was a welcome change to his routine, and somewhat – in his mind anyway – solidified the fact that they were in a relationship.

Assuming they _were_ in one. He wasn't always sure. They'd been careful to avoid actually talking about that. Wake up in her quarters. Breakfast together. Work. Lunch together. Work. Dinner together. Work. "Blow off steam" together. Sleep. It'd been a very constant pattern ever since the Omega-4 Relay, one that he had no desire to break and that Shepard also seemed to enjoy.

Mind full of thoughts of Shepard, Garrus walked into the mess hall. Most of the crew was there, eating their various meals or ration packs, depending on their personal preferences. Even Miranda, who had kept mostly to herself before Shepard had helped her with her sister, was at one of the tables, reading some reports as she sipped on her coffee. Jacob was nearby, _trying_ to engage her in conversation, but her mind seemed to be elsewhere. That should've tipped him off.

Garrus grabbed some dextro-rations and took a seat at the table he and Shepard usual sat at. She wasn't there yet, but that wasn't necessarily surprising. She wasn't always the best at keeping track of time. She'd get lost in working on upgrades, mining for nutrients, talking to the crew… So he just made himself comfortable, slowly poking at his food and listening to the conversations around him.

After a while, he looked at his omni-tool. 1730. That was later than he'd expect from Shepard. Even if she couldn't tell time, her stomach sure could. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He was able to distract himself for another two minutes by wondering when he'd picked up this human gesture of impatience, trying to track down the exact moment or person. But he could only divert his attention from the fact that Shepard wasn't there for so long.

"Where's Shepard?" Garrus was relieved that he didn't have to ask – Kasumi had done it for him. He tried to ignore his concern. Kasumi was the ship gossip. She was everywhere thanks to her cloak and she knew everything about the crew's business. If _she_ didn't even know…

Most people shrugged or grunted or gave some other indication that they had no clue. They looked at each other, figuring someone knew something. He could feel several of them look at him for an answer, but evidently they say that he was just as clueless. Eventually, all eyes fell on Miranda.

There was a long pause as everyone in the mess hall watched Miranda, who seemed to think her cup of coffee was quite fascinating. "She's on a mission," came the terse reply.

Shepard had taken him on every mission since they'd met on the Citadel. The only exception was when she defended Tali to the Admiralty Board – instead of bringing him, she'd brought Legion. He hadn't been hurt by that – his first reaction was actually to burst out laughing. _The gall of that woman…_ he thought fondly.

But she hadn't brought him this time.

"Oh," Garrus managed, finally speaking up for the first time. "Who uh... who did she take with her?" He felt awkward asking. Really, why was it his business who the commander took with her on missions? Even if they were sleeping together?

The pause was longer. Everyone looked around, mentally counting who was and wasn't there, trying to figure out who was watching Shepard's back. His befuddlement turned into a nauseous spinning in his head. Everyone was there, short of Joker and Legion. _Everyone._

They all knew the answer now, but they needed to hear it. If it had been any other circumstances, Garrus would have felt sorry for the way their eyes were boring into Miranda. She did her best to keep from shifting in her seat, but her discomfort was palpable.

"Commander Shepard went on her own for this particular mission."

The words hung in the air. There was dead silence. If Harbinger himself had walked in right then, no one would've batted an eye.

Then there was a loud bang and then a cracking sound. It took Garrus a moment to realize he had dropped his mug. His ears were ringing. He was pretty sure he'd forgotten how to breathe. He felt like he was going to be sick.


	2. Not According to Plan

**Arrived**

"That's really all the information I can provide you at this time," Miranda said for the tenth time. She had briefed him on the mission. Twice. He'd viewed the vid log himself. She couldn't be sure, but he'd probably hacked into the security feeds that showed her actually boarding the shuttle and leaving the Normandy.

He gave her what she assumed was the Turian equivalent of a frown. Miranda leaned back in her chair, appraising him. He was taking it better than she thought. Although he was persistent about getting details, he was not overtly angry. Well, at least not at _her_.

She really didn't have to provide Garrus with any information. As XO she outranked him, even if he was Shepard's unofficial right-hand man. But she felt bad for him. The poor guy was just worried about his… whatever Shepard was. Somewhere in between girlfriend and CO, she suspected. And the Commander hadn't even talked to him before she left. But Miranda withheld judgment. She respected Shepard enough to stay out of her private business, so long as it didn't affect the mission.

The Turian's mandibles twitched. He undoubtedly had a lot he wanted to say but couldn't find the words. Or was saving them for later. Finally, he managed to find some words he could choke out. "When is she expected back?"

Miranda frowned. It had been four hours already. The mission had seemed relatively straight-forward. Go in, break Kenson out of prison, look into her claims. When was she expected back? Two hours ago. Or at least Miranda had expected to hear word on Shepard's progress. If Miranda listened to her gut, she knew there was something wrong.

"Garrus," she did her best at a soothing tone. Unfortunately she just didn't have a lot of experience with this sort of thing. "You know how missions like this can be. Shepard's been on longer missions than this. I'm sure we'll be receiving her transmission with pick-up coordinates any moment now."

She really was no good at reading Turians. But in this case, she didn't need to be. Distraught. Helpless.

Leaning forward, she said, "You know I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything."

He tried to nod, but it was barely perceptible as he abruptly turned and left.

Garrus had already patched into the Normandy's comm. relay with his omni-tool. If anyone contacted the ship, he'd know before Miranda did. Not that that made him feel any better.

He retreated back to the main battery and locked the door behind him to discourage Tali or any of the others from trying to console him. He felt sick enough with his own thoughts. Talking to someone else about them would probably make him loose his dinner.

He gripped the sides of his terminal until his talons hurt. He breathed in and out slowly, desperately trying to focus on that action instead of the worry clogging every thought in his head.

They'd never talked about what they were to each other, possibly because they weren't sure. Comrades at arms had long since faded into friends. That had eventually become good friends, and since joining the Normandy SR2 they had become best friends. And then they become lovers. That's where they'd stopped. Had it progressed beyond that? Neither knew what the other felt. Hell, until approximately four hours ago he didn't know what _he_ had felt.

Now all he could feel was a choking worry laced with an uncontrollable anger. He was worried. His… Commander? His Commander was missing. In Batarian space. In a prison. Alone. _Fuck._ Garrus was honestly a little scared about _how_ worried he was. If she was gone too long, he knew it would consume him. If she _died_… his mind couldn't even process the idea. His life had slowly fallen apart the last time, and he doubted Cerberus would be so kind as to bring her back again.

But indulging in his worries would cause him to spiral out of control. That's why he forced it into the back of his mind and locked it away. Instead, he embraced the rage that was slowly building beneath the surface, underneath his futile attempts at remaining calm.

How _dare_ she? How DARE she leave him like this without doing him the _courtesy_ of at least letting him KNOW? How DARE she put her life at risk unnecessarily? How DARE she leave him in this agony?

Garrus' legs collapsed out from under him.

How dare she make him realize he loved her at the same moment she threatened never to come back?

* * *

><p>It was supposed to be easy. In. Out. An hour. Two tops. Even alone. But it <em>always<em> started out easy, and with her luck, it _always_ got worse. And this time she couldn't even blame the Batarians – that'd been the easy part.

Now here she was, ducking for cover and she was attacked by these crazy indoctrinated bastards. Fuck. Without backup. Fuck. Without telling the crew she'd come here. _Fuck._

But she could ignore all that for now, just concentrate on the task at hand. She was good at that. Aim, fire, duck, reload, repeat. She'd done it a million times before and until she died doing it, she'd probably do it a million more.

A part of her had thought it might be exciting to go into the field without a team. Exhilarating or something. But she forgot how routine it all was. The added danger didn't really do anything for her. It was all just point and click.

But even in the heat of battle, even in the mind-numbing familiarity of it all, she felt something was off. She was more hard-pressed than usual, enemies getting a little closer than she liked. Took her a minute to realize why. She'd been ignoring the targets she'd normally expect Garrus to take out for her. He was part of the routine.

Shepard cursed herself for letting her think about him. This. Was. Not. A. Good. Time. But she couldn't help it, once it started. She felt like shit for not letting him know what she was doing. She felt like an ass for leaving it on Miranda to have to tell him. But she could still salvage this mission. Get back in time to stop him from freaking out.

She remembered how helpless she'd felt when the gunship had hit him. As he lay there dying on Omega. As she waited for Chakwas to save him. It'd felt terrible, and hell, they were just friends then.

Her heart skipped a beat. What the fuck _were_ they now? She popped the heat sink and then changed cover. BFFs? Lovers? Fuck-buddies? She had no idea. She had always been too scared to bring it up because she didn't want to ruin a perfectly good thing. Best relationship she'd been in and she didn't want to mess it up by calling it a relationship. Something terribly ironic about that.

She shot another guard in the head. Ducked to reload. But she didn't want to pressure Garrus into anything more… substantial. She enjoyed his company too much to risk scaring him away. It'd been easy enough on her end to avoid bringing "them" up. She was understandably busy with the whole save-the-galaxy-thing she had going on. She figured he'd say something first. Make it less awkward for her if he did.

As she took a few more shots, she groaned when the mech came into view. Fucking great. Time for the big guns…

She had the last missile ready to fire when the mech dropped. Good. Might need it later. She slowly got out of cover, not seeing any more enemies. Time to crash this asteroid into a Relay.

But then she felt an odd pulse shoot through her. She took a step forward but stumbled and fell to her knees. She could feel unconsciousness threatening to drag her down. Hell no. She was goddamned Command Shepard, first human Spectre. She was _not _going down like this. Through willpower alone, she managed to get back on one foot. It took all of her concentration – she was sweating from the effort – but then the pulse repeated, and she fell completely to the ground. Her mind was spinning, she could barely make out the scene around her.

Shepard saw Kenson, heard her, understood vaguely what was happening. But her head was pounding and she was frozen, her body a pile of lead and her mind refusing to let her focus on any particular detail. It was just blurred images and ideas not willing to solidify.

As her eyes rolled back and her body gave in, one image did manage to come through.

_Garrus._

_Oh god._


	3. MIA

**Arrived**

Forty. Six. Hours.

Garrus felt like shit. He hadn't slept. Couldn't eat. Wouldn't talk to anyone.

He was a shell, as bad as the Husks he'd helped kill. He was in limbo. Just waiting to find out if she was okay. Still breathing. Spirits, he hoped she was alive. He had no place in a universe that didn't have Jane Shepard. He'd seen that universe for two years. If there was one thing Garrus knew, it was that he couldn't live in that universe anymore.

He hadn't left the main battery since last talking to Miranda. Hours ago. Days ago.

He'd spent the first few hours imagining how he'd rip into her for leaving like that. That she should've told Hackett to shove it – _one_ squad member wouldn't have blown it for this doctor. Sure, whatever, she respected him and his assessment of the situation, that it had to be just her. He could understand that. But why the hell couldn't she tell him about this before leaving? He imagined all the words he'd shout at her and all the apologies and explanations she'd give. Or sometimes he'd imagine her fighting back, their heated words ending in apologies on both sides.

But then they hit the ten hour mark. No fucking way it was taking her that long. Something was undeniably wrong. He could only pretend things were fine for so long.

So his mind turned from angry confrontations with Shepard to rage-induced killing sprees to avenge her. He had all the confidence in the world in her abilities, but he was no fool. Batarians were involved. Worse yet, the Reapers might be too. As each minute, each hour passed it was becoming less and less likely that she was alright.

Garrus was probably losing it. Lack of sleep and all. Deeply missing the woman he hadn't realized was his mate until too late. He could've sworn his incessant pacing would wear down the floor of the battery. He _prayed_ to any deity he'd ever heard of that she was alright. Spirits help him, he needed her to be alright. It was killing him little by little not knowing.

He knew that if he even started to give in to depression, he'd never be able to find his way out of it. More and more he let himself feel angry. He imagined breaking the bones of her killers one by one before gouging their eyes out and bleeding them dry. It was easier to imagine the idea of their dead bodies than hers. He hadn't even had to see her body the last time… He just couldn't picture it.

His omni-tool beeped. Forty seven hours.

The humans had an expression about feeling "heartbroken." He hadn't really understood it when he first heard it. Why would an organ that pumped blood have anything to do with love? But as he felt the tightness in his chest and the ache in his gut grow in intensity, he thought he could see the connection.

* * *

><p>It was like déjà vu. Waking up after Project Lazarus. The same slow, confused path back to consciousness. And then the sudden realization that <em>something was wrong.<em>

She could hold off the panic until she realized she'd been out for two days. Shit. _Shit._

Shepard felt a pain in her chest as she found herself ducking and dodging her way through Kenson's base. She knew the pain had nothing to do with running. It didn't have anything to do with needing to _get the hell off_ this asteroid – that pain was localized to the pounding at her temples. It had everything to do with the fact that she had left her boyfriend on the ship _two days ago_ without telling him where she was going. The same boyfriend who had already experienced her go missing two years ago. When she had _died._

Saying she didn't mean for it to go like this would be an understatement. This whole mission had gone to hell. She did her best to not think about Garrus, about what must have been going through his head the last two days. _Two days._ She'd really fucked this one up.

Even after she'd pushed in the second cooling rod, she still felt incredibly tense. That minute victory was overshadowed by the fact that she still hadn't contact the Normandy to a.) get her ass off this rock and b.) let her crew (i.e. Garrus) know she wasn't dead. Yet. Again.

Then there was the guilt that she'd never been able to contact the Batarians. It was too late to do anything now – if she even found a working comm. unit she'd barely have enough time to contact the Normandy. Not that there'd be enough time for the Batarians to evacuate anyway. There just wasn't enough time. But if she hadn't let this mission get so out of control, then she could've saved everyone.

She couldn't stop the string of curses that ran through her head as she left the reactor room. She cursed the Reapers for existing and making her life so goddamned impossible. She cursed Cerberus for bringing her back. She cursed Hackett for getting her into this. She cursed Garrus for not being there to save her ass. She cursed Kenson and her men for being stupid enough to let themselves get indoctrinated. She cursed herself for not seeing that _of course_ they'd be indoctrinated. Herself again for not being able to save more people. Herself for not telling the crew. Herself for not saying goodbye to Garrus. Herself a million more times if she died and _didn't even tell him goodbye._

And then she cursed these damn bastards at the "Project" yet again as she saw another fucking mech between her and her only way of contacting the Normandy. And then her heart really must have stopped for a few beats. There was the Relay. And it was getting _close_. She hadn't quite felt this sort of panic before.

Jane Shepard didn't have time for regrets. Learn from your mistakes and move on. She learned a long time ago not to drag that shit along with you as baggage. But as she ducked behind some crates, wondering how the hell she was going to get through to contact the Normandy in time to get off this doomed rock, she knew she finally had some regrets.

That she hadn't said good-bye to him. That she wouldn't get to make a life with him. That she'd never told him she loved him.

Oh god. She loved him. Why the fuck couldn't she have figured that out before she was about to die?

* * *

><p>He'd stopped pacing a while ago. He'd stopped and just stared straight ahead at the wall, his mind not quite thinking anything but at the same time he couldn't <em>stop<em> thinking about her. He just stood there and waited to know if (s)he was still alive.

"_Lawson! We've got something you might want to see-"_

"_What is it, Joker?"_

Garrus had plugged into all of the ship's communications. Any message to, from or within the ship was being directly fed to his terminal.

"_There's a HUGE asteroid heading towards the Mass Relay. It's going to hit it in less than fifteen minutes. I know Mass Relays are supposed to be indestructible, but…"_

There was silence for a moment before Miranda spoke. _"Get us to that Relay but stay close to the asteroid. Wait until the absolute last second before getting us out of this system."_

Joker hesitated. _"The Commander-"_

"_We won't leave without her if we don't have to. But if I know anything about the Commander's capacity to get herself into trouble, I would very much suspect that she is on or in the vicinity of that asteroid. I want us to be there when she calls for evac. Now follow orders and get us there."_

"_Yes ma'am."_

The line went dead. Garrus could barely comprehend what they were saying. _Is she alright…? _ He stopped himself there. Hope was more dangerous than grief.

* * *

><p>She barely dodged the missile as she regained her senses after a flash grenade. As her back went against the crate and her rifle came out, the panic was gone. She was Commander Shepard again, ready to do the impossible.<p>

Shepard made short work of the mech and the soldiers. She experienced an eerie sort of clarity as she shot and ran. The guilt was gone. The worry was gone. Just a very determined sense of purpose.

She nearly ran into the comm. relay. All she could think was that the Relay was too goddamned close for comfort. She played with the controls and fumbled a little. Her hands were shaking – the panic was coming back. So close but so far. She finally managed to get a signal open. _Oh please let them be close by…_

"Shepard to Normandy. Joker, do you read me?"

And somewhere on her ship, a lonely Turian found he had no words to express the relief he felt at that moment.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Thanks to those of you who have read / reviewed / sent me messages. I appreciate the feedback. Not entirely happy with parts of this chapter, so it may be extensively edited at some point. Next/final chapter coming in a day or so.


	4. Arrived

**AN: **Again, this story is a fill for the masskink meme, meaning that the chapter that follows very much falls into the **lemon** category and earns this story the M rating it has. If that's not your thing, I would not recommend continuing. That being said, please keep in mind that I haven't written anything with this much citrus in perhaps eight years, and even when I did it, I was never particularly good at it. But as they say, practice makes perfect. Please let me know if there are things you felt could be improved. As always, thanks for reading!

* * *

><p><strong>Arrived<strong>

She felt defeated. Completely drained. _Exhausted._ Which was particularly ridiculous given the fact that she'd been unconscious the last two days.

_Two days. Great. More of my life missing, _she thought sourly. But really, that was the least of her problems.

Shepard had always tried to do what was best for the most people possible. To save as many and not accept collateral damage as something that was "necessary" or "unavoidable." But she didn't think that assessment of herself could really apply anymore. She had _chosen_ to let three hundred thousand people _die._ She had knowingly and purposefully destroyed an entire star system. Sure, she was trying to save dozens more systems, billions more lives. But when had she ever let the ends justify the means?

She sighed. No doubt she'd have far too much time to think about it. But that could wait. She had more pressing concerns. Something that couldn't be put off anymore.

Almost reluctantly, she pushed away from the galaxy map and went to the elevator. She had assumed he'd be in the Main Battery – no doubt locked in. And furious. Not that she could blame him for that. If he'd done to her what she just did, she'd ripe him a new one.

She wasn't looking forward to this. But really, who _does_ want to deal with an enraged Turian? She was tempted to take a shower first and change. Anything to put this off, really. Hell, she'd rather debrief the entire crew. Naked. Then chew broken glass and drink battery acid.

Engulfed in her thoughts as she was, she was completely taken off guard when the elevator door opened and there he was. Her heart dropped to her feet and her blood rushed to her ears. She stumbled into the elevator, feeling dizzy. The door whooshed shut behind her. "Garrus?"

He couldn't explain to her how good it had felt to hear her voice again. It was like a drowning man's first breath after breaking the surface. Painful and ragged but _life_ giving. But the relief he felt did nothing to put out the fire burning inside of him. The primal _anger_ at his mate for putting him through hell for no damn good reason.

His body was tense, like a predator about to spring. His talons twitched slightly as if itching to tear into something. He wouldn't look at her. Goddamnit, why wouldn't he look at her? She _needed_ him and the only acknowledgement she got from him was the fucking tension in the elevator as it slowly made its way to her quarters.

He didn't trust himself to speak yet. Hell, he hadn't opened his eyes since the elevator door opened and she'd walked in. She'd break through all his defenses and have him weeping if he let her. So he shut her out as he tried to regain control. Tried to keep himself angry. It was his only defense against her.

Shepard stared at the Turian as the elevator moved at its glacial pace. He looked like shit. Probably looked worse than she did. Her heart was breaking just seeing how much she had hurt him with her absence, breaking even more than from his silence.

She swallowed. Her mouth was dry. God was she nervous. _He won't even look at me…_ "Garrus?" she tried again, hearing for the first time how hoarse she sounded. His muscles visibly tightened. She'd thought it wasn't even possible for him to look more tense than he already was. She may not know a lot about Turians or their body language, but everything she did now told her that he was _pissed._

_That's good, right? If he's _reacting_ than that at least means he _cares_, right?_ But the fear was there. She was afraid he'd break things off with her. Maybe he'd decided she wasn't worth the stress. Honestly, she wouldn't hold it against him if he did.

The elevator finally reached the top floor of the ship. The doors opening was the only sound besides the beating of their hearts in their heads. Each was sure that the other could hear it, that it would give them away.

Shepard stood there awkwardly, wondering what to do. He had yet to really acknowledge her, but she didn't want to stay there in the elevator. Finally, after a few painful minutes, she decided to move towards her cabin. If he followed her, well… maybe they could still work this out. Salvage _something_.

Her hand was shaking as she started to input the code for her room, worse than when she was on the asteroid. She was listening so intently for sounds of him following her that she typed the wrong number in. Three times. And when she finally did hear him stop about a foot behind her, it didn't help her concentration.

Garrus was going crazy. He was close enough now that he could catch her scent. Damn her for smelling _so good_. Finally looking at her – at least looking at her back – he allowed himself to be pleased that she didn't appear injured. At least she wasn't limping, bleeding or missing any limbs. Yet.

When she finally got the door open, she turned her head slightly. Just enough to see the edge of him. She gestured for him to follow and made her way inside. He still hadn't said a word and that scared her more than anything else. He'd never been one to hold his tongue if he had something to say to her.

"Garrus-" she started, still not quite sure how to approach this. She was interrupted by the sound of metal hitting glass.

It had happened so quickly it took her a minute to get her bearings. He had her pinned against the fish tank, tightly keeping her in place with his entire body. His forehead was pressed against hers. Usually he did this to show affection, but he was using far too much force now. His rough skin was hurting her and making her head pound. As she felt the sting in her back from being slammed against the tank, the words "apex predator" came to mind before disappearing behind the heat of their bodies and the close proximity.

He'd had so much time to plan this out. He'd spent hours rehearsing the curses and accusations. He wasn't quite sure when the plan had changed. Didn't matter anymore. He could yell at her later. Right now every predatory instinct in him told him to dominate her. To show her she was _his_. That she would not leave him like that again. Ever. _Ever._

Garrus knew he'd stunned her. He didn't know what she'd expected. Frankly, he didn't care. He was more than willing to take advantage. Keeping her pinned with his forehead – a feat in and of itself – he started undoing her armor. He wasn't ready to look her in the eyes yet, and this provided the necessary distraction.

It took her longer than it should have to realize what he was doing, what he was going to do. Her face paled and then flushed, surprise now keeping her pinned more than her confusion. He'd gotten most of her armor off already – he'd gotten surprisingly good at taking it off over the past few weeks. Her hands slowly moved to remove the pieces he hadn't gotten to yet, but he growled and swatted them away.

She was shaking a little in nervous anticipation. Oh _god_ she wanted him, but this unusual display of dominance was throwing her off. So she let him finish pulling off her under armor, no longer worried about helping or hindering his progress. She just watched and noticed how he still hadn't looked her in the eye. Their eyes were inches apart and he seemed almost unaware that she was actually there.

Satisfied that she was completely undressed, he took a step back. He looked her over quickly. He'd never been one to admire the human form. It hadn't been until Shepard came into his life that he admitted that there was something appealing about their bodies. Her body. And he knew it really was only hers that he cared about.

He took another second to ravish her with his eyes. He thought he could see her blush under his scrutiny. He wanted to _enjoy _making her uncomfortable after what she'd put him through. But his growing arousal was making his own armor painful. So he hurriedly started removing it piece by piece, throwing it spirits know where.

Shepard watched as he undressed like a madman, just trying to get out of the damn armor and under armor. Then, _finally,_ the only thing keeping them apart was a measly five feet. She couldn't help the smirk that played on the corner of her lips when she saw his swollen length. He might pretend he was angry, but god, even if he was, he still wanted her.

Garrus had tried to avoid her eyes. Knew he'd lose himself in them if he looked up, but he didn't have an excuse not to right now. So slowly, his eyes trailed up her toned legs, up her delectable curves, up her beautiful pert breasts, finally resting on that intoxicating smirk and her smoldering eyes.

It barely took two strides to have her against the tank again.

His arms were at her hips, pulling her to him and securing his erection against her inner thigh. Her hands flew to his cheeks and pulled him in for a kiss. Admittedly, his experience with kissing was limited to Shepard, but he was sure she'd never kissed him like this before. He could _taste_ her passion, her desire. He moaned as her hands explored his fringe, his neck, his mandibles – her hands were everywhere at once, leaving hot trails of fire in their wake.

But he wasn't in the mood for this. This was too slow, too loving. He needed her _now_.

He grabbed her arms and pinned them above her head, never breaking their kiss. She didn't offer any resistance.

Normally he would tease her entrance first, make her moan and beg. He didn't bother this time. After being so tightly wound the past two days, his body was screaming for a release. This wasn't the time to be gentle and tender. He spread her legs rather forcefully, still keeping her pinned with his arms, and thrust as hard as he could. His guttural moan was echoed by hers.

Spirits damn her, she wasn't supposed to be enjoying this. But he was still thrilled that he could have that affect on her. That she was already so wet. Keeping her pinned as best he could, he pulled both of her legs up and wrapped them around his waist. He didn't want her to be able to use them as leverage to try and take control.

He was aggressive. Rough. Unforgiving. She didn't care. She needed to feel his body against hers, feel him inside of her. She moaned wordlessly as he ground into her again and again. She did her best to meet his vigorous pace, but couldn't match his intensity. And for a few minutes she felt guilty for winding him up like this because it _felt so good_ she was almost glad she hadn't told him.

He bit her ear harder than he should have. He had enough presence of mind not to bite any harder – he was sure he'd take a chunk off. He left her ear and made his way down her neck, to her shoulders, up her chin. He nipped as he went, reveling in the excited moans he received each time. He was in control up until she started to cry his name. He tried to go faster, felt her body becoming tense around him.

Their eyes locked and he couldn't help the possessive growl he made. That was enough to set her over the edge. She arched into him, nails digging into his wrists and eyes rolling back as she came around him, her muscles clenching so much it almost hurt him. He groaned as he felt himself about to follow her, one talon clenching her wrists and the other digging into her thigh. A few more strokes and he was there, burying himself as deep as he could into her warm core and calling her name.

They remained silent for a moment, riding their ecstasy as long as they could.

He let go of her hands so that he could take some of his weight off of her. Her arms immediately found their way around him. Their breathing was heavy as they tried to compose themselves.

He felt so much better. Relief washed through him and his thoughts were much clearer. He'd spent the last of his anger doing his best to fuck her brains out, but he found his desire hadn't been sated in the least.

"I want to _fill_ every part of you," he whispered huskily into her ear.

She shuddered at his words.

They somehow found their way to the bed, Garrus intent on remaining inside of her and Shepard not wanting to disentangle their limbs. It wasn't until a few rounds later (thank god for Turian stamina) that the intensity of their lovemaking changed. His pace slowed and his talons lingered in gentle caresses. Her nails didn't dig in as deeply and her kisses were less demanding. Their climaxes weren't reached with frenzied cries or screams of pleasure. Instead it was tender words and blissful sighs.

It wasn't until hours later that they finally reached their last peak together, each mumbling "I love you" against the other's lips.

They didn't set out looking for love. That had never been their goal or destination.

But they found they had just arrived.


End file.
